Saturday, May 20, 2017

Money, power, prestige…Legacy. Gage Coulter is —The Player.
His whole life, all, basketball player, Gage Coulter, has heard is how he was meant to play basketball. Meant to be on the court. Meant to be elite. So what happens if he can’t even play on the damn team? With his father in and out of the hospital and more practice time than he’s used to, he’s struggling to hold up the ship and his grades are showing it. With his starting position in jeopardy, he needs help from the one girl on campus who can’t stand him. Too bad, she’s also the one girl he can’t get out of his head.
Becker Johnson has a plan for her life. And it doesn’t include doing some jock’s homework so he can toss a ball in the net or whatever. She’s getting the Collins Scholarship and moving to New York. See, all planned out. Until her adviser drops a bombshell. While her grades are excellent, she’ll need some work experience to be eligible for the scholarship. And lucky Becker, he’s got just the right student for her.

“Now comes the part of the night where I warn you I’m going to touch you.”

She swallowed hard. “Uh, okay. Just where are you going to touch me?”
He leaned close and whispered. “This is the part where you’ll just have to trust me.”
She couldn’t help but hold her breath. “You’re telling me you know how to dance?” she inquired.
“Well…my mother was a dancer before she married my father,” he told her. “All of us at least have a sense of rhythm. It can come in handy where coordination and learning intricate plays is concerned.”
He was right about having a sense of rhythm. Considering his height, he moved well to the music. He might not have had very fancy moves, but he was able to sway and keep time well for someone with such a tall frame. She might have expected him to look like some sort of disjointed marionette, but he was smooth as he pulled her in against his chest, curling around her so that his head hovered above hers and she could feel his warm breath near her ear.
She was hyperaware of his hands, his breath, his scent. She wanted him to touch her. Wanted his hands on her. Because you are a glutton for punishment. She turned in his arms, her ass gently brushing his thighs, his arm reaching around her and pressing her backwards so his chest would brush against her back, his arm inadvertently rubbing against her breasts.
The music switched from quick, pounding beats to something a little slower, but still so deep that it throbbed in her blood as she swayed and reached up behind her to get a hold of Gage, her hand sliding along his shoulder until she found his neck, gently tugging him to her.
He trailed his fingers up her side until he reached her elbow, then he curled his hand so his palm skimmed the flesh of her arms, leaving goose bumps behind.
Gage leaned down. “Becks?”
“Hmm?”
“I think we have an audience. Daniel’s got his eyes trained on you like a hawk right now. And we probably need to establish that we’re for sure a thing.”
Oh boy, he was talking about the kiss. Not the teasing ones he’d been giving her all night, the ones they’d been putting on for show. But the big one. “Uh, okay.”
Gage took her hand and led her through the crowd to the quieter hallway near the bathroom. At the end of the hallway, there was an alcove with a huge bay window that looked over the canyons of the backyard. It was the perfect spot. Just enough traffic so that everyone would report that they’d been all over each other, and private enough that it wasn’t just an outright show.
Gage studied her, paying close attention to her lips. “Hey, Becks,”
“Yeah?” she whispered.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
Becker acted before her brain could think her out of doing the one thing she’d been dying to do. Tipping her head up, ever so slightly.
His chest rumbled with a low growl. For a second, he held her tighter, bringing her closer against his lean, hard frame.
A shiver stole up her back. “Uh, maybe we could go slow. I don’t think—”
“We’ll go as slow as you like.”He was going to kiss her. Even as she braced herself, Becker knew she was in trouble. She’d been able to keep him at arm’s length for so long.
He dipped his head, and his lips hovered over hers for a moment. “Relax, this is supposed to be fun.” The first brush of his lips over hers was soft.
As soon as Becker relaxed into him, he wrapped his hand around her in an embrace so tight it could keep the world at bay. He shifted the angle of his head and deepened the kiss. She couldn’t help but respond to his insistent tongue as it probed and slid over hers. Teasing, tasting, testing to see if he could intensify the heat. The moment his hands went to her hips and pulled them against his, Becker was lost.
The heat that pooled in the center of her chest spread throughout her body, scorching the fine hairs on her skin from the inside out. His hands stayed at her waist, but his thumbs drew slow circles on her hip bones that promised hotter things to come.
For once, Becker didn’t overthink. For once, she didn’t overanalyze. For once, she didn’t let fear rule and she just felt. Hot. Tight. Itchy. Gage was her balm. She needed more. She wanted more. Becker moaned, and the sound bounced off the walls.
Gage kissed like an expert, demanding that she respond to him. This guy could give kissing lessons. And she’d be the first one in line. Every. Single. Time. Her nipples hardened to points with every movement of his chest against hers. He backed her against the wall of the deserted hallway and pressed his body into hers.
The cautious part of her brain tried to send up a flare. Tried to send out a warning. Tried to send out fear signals, but every instinct told her to feel, to enjoy, that she had nothing to fear here. All she had to do was feel.

Author Bio:USA Today Best Seller, Nana Malone's love of all things romance and adventure started with a tattered romantic suspense she "borrowed" from her cousin.
It was a sultry summer afternoon in Ghana, and Nana was a precocious thirteen. She's been in love with kick butt heroines ever since. With her overactive imagination, and channeling her inner Buffy, it was only a matter a time before she started creating her own characters.
While she waits for her chance at a job as a ninja assassin, in the meantime Nana works out her drama, passion and sass with fictional characters every bit as sassy and kick butt as she thinks she is.
Want to know when the next book is coming? Hit up her Newsletter here. You'll only get updated when there is a new release or a special promotion for her Sexy, Sassy Readers. http://eepurl.com/2PeXb

Friday, May 19, 2017

If you’re looking for free books and a way to connect with new and exciting authors, you’ve come to the right place! Visit this link and you’ll be able to select up to 42 FREE BOOKS!

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Sneak a peek at a couple of books in this event:

Excerpt of BETWEEN BREATHS by Alexa Padgett

HAYDEN
I stared into those beautiful blue eyes. The tightness eased. Breathing wasn’t a chore. “I’m not saying tomorrow will be better.”
Her lips flipped up in a sardonic smile. “It’s possible tomorrow will be worse. This is hospice after all.”
“I’m expecting worse.” I tilted my head back and groaned. “I don’t want my mum’s death to drag out. Too many people are counting on me.”
“You’ll do the best you can.”
“Doesn’t feel good enough.”
“Welcome to the club. Speaking of, my sister doesn’t believe I met you, Mr. World Famous Rock Star.”
I raised my eyebrow. I cradled her shoulders. I liked holding Briar. Wasn’t a briar some kind of rose? Sweet but with enough defenses to bloom. I liked that—she’d fight for her chances.
“We’ll have to take a selfie. For digital proof.”
“Thought you didn’t like digital proof and journos, as you call them.”
“Reckon I don’t. But . . . I’m making an exception.”
Her lips curved up and her eyes sparkled. The weight from my chest eased a little and I could draw a full breath. “I’d like that. Ready to go?”
“Photo first.”
I grabbed her phone and positioned us together before snapping a few photos. “For posterity or whatever.”
She smiled again and the world shone brighter. I didn’t want to turn around and look at the building again.
“I know just the place to go.”
She snagged my hand, her cool fingers sliding between mine, our palms fusing softly. Something in me clicked, like I’d just latched into a safety belt. I followed behind her as she pulled me toward her car again. After she unlocked it, I opened her door and waited for her to slide in. Instead, she stepped in closer, her body heat mingling with mine.
“I’ve done a lot of soul-searching these past few months, Hayden. But today, with Ken’s comments, my purpose became clear.” She closed her eyes, reliving something. “I’m tired of closing off, pushing people away,” she whispered. “It’s all I’ve done for years.” She opened her eyes, filled with the fire of new determination. “So I mean it when I say I’ll be here with you. Through this. As your friend.”
I ran my knuckle down her cheek, marveling at the smooth, firm texture of her skin. “I don’t know how I got so lucky in the friend department, but I’m chuffed you’re here. And such a gorgeous lady at that.”
She rolled her eyes, and I winked. Walking around the car, I curled my fingers tight to hold in the fading heat from her skin. I glanced up at the building. Whatever my mum needed to tell me, I needed to hear. I could process her reasons and come to terms with her years of rejection later, but for now, she wanted me to know her side of the story. And I’d listen.
As I eased into the car, Briar’s floral scent wrapped around me, cradling me almost as well as her arms had just moments before.

—

Excerpt from XANDER: AN INCANDESCENT STORY by ELLE SCOTT

My feet drag with my legs feeling heavy underneath me. I see a stray stone and kick it along the path. It scuttles along the concrete path and hides itself into the garden-bed along the edge of the science wing.
A flicker to my right catches my eye—at first I’m expecting it to be a tree branch shaking in the wind, but then I see a body. He’s tall and dark and his glasses have slid down his nose; he’s wearing a grin and holds a large silver ball. It’s the professor Ross was with. How did he get out here so quick? There must be another entrance nearby. The Professor gently holds the silver ball as if he is handling a two-hour-old newborn baby. He closes his eyes. The ball shimmers brightly for a second and then him and the ball are… gone. I blink a few times. Am I going crazy? My head moves so fast a twinge makes its way from my shoulder to my skull.
‘Argh,’ I mumble, rubbing my neck.
Did I just see what I saw? Has the heat gotten to me?
I roll my head to loosen my seized muscles, side to side, forward and up—
There’s Ross. He is looking out a window on the second floor, eyes and mouth wide. And beside him, with a proud smile firmly planted on his face, is the professor.
I glance back at the spot where the professor disappeared from, grass strands still squashed where he stood. Is this what world-changing looks like?

London trial lawyer Gen has managed to corral that randy colt His Lordship Arthur Finch-Hatten, the Earl of Severn, at least as far as anyone knows. In public, he seems to be behaving himself, but she’s kind of gotten involved with her client in a way that the Bar’s Ethics Committee would totally not approve of. With Arthur’s impending trial in the House of Lords and the constant backstabbing in her law office, the last thing Gen needs is for Arthur to whisk her off to Paris for the social wedding of the century to schmooze the people who will decide his fate.Gen has broken all the rules, and she could very well end up with a broken heart.She needs a stiff drink, and it had better be hard liquor.
Hard Liquor is the exciting conclusion to the Arthur Duet that begins with Stiff Drink.

Arthur stood in the opening of the front doors, framed by the light behind him and the imposing edifice of Spencer House, waving as the last guest’s car skidded on the tiled driveway around the fountain and drove off into the night. Exhaust from the cars fouled the spring breeze, but it blew out over the formal gardens and into the deer park within minutes, leaving only the stars, his estate, and his arm around the softness that was Gen.
“Come inside,” Arthur said. “You don’t want to catch a chill, pet.”
“Oh, is it ‘pet’ now?” Gen turned, brushing against his side, and walked ahead of him into the foyer.
When she turned back, the chandelier above was shining on her lustrous hair, her dark eyes were flirting with him, and that emerald silk dress had been poured over her curves.
Arthur lost his breath. “Gen.”
“Yes, sugar?” She was still smiling at him.
He slammed the door and was across the floor before he knew it and grabbed her.
“Arthur! There are people—”
“No, there aren’t.” The guests had all departed, and the staff would be cleaning up the dining room in the far wing of the house.
He lifted her in his arms, tossing her a little to show that he could indeed carry her wherever he wanted to, and strode up the stairs.
“Arthur, where are we—” She was giggling so hard that she couldn’t talk.
“Upstairs,” he said. He tried to make it light, amusing, but it came out like a growl. His voice felt deeper in his throat.
“What did that man say to you at dinner?”
“No matter.” He didn’t want to talk about Lord Asshole. “Tell me no if you don’t want this. Tell me no or amber or red.”
And it would rip him apart, but he would stop himself.
He whispered, “Tell me amber or red or put yourself in my hands.”
Gen wrapped her sweet arms around his neck, and she buried her face in his neck, kissing his skin above his collar.
Fire and testosterone raced through his veins.
She whispered, “I’m in your hands.”
Arthur walked faster, taking the stairs quickly.

Author Bio:
Blair Babylon often releases ebooks at a special release-day price of 99c.
To never miss a sale, CLICK HERE: http://smarturl.it/Babylon-Email
Blair Babylon is the nom de plume of an award-winning, USA Today-bestselling author who used to publish literary fiction. Because professional reviews of her other fiction usually included the caveat that there was too much deviant sex and too much interesting plot, she decided to abandon all literary pretensions, let her freak flag fly, and write hot, sexy, erotic romance, plus wild, suspenseful thrillers, science fiction, and urban fantasy using the super-secret pen name Blair C. Babylon.

Charlie watched
Monica, the Commander of the Alien Time Travel and Research Agency (ATTRA)
unsheathe a nine-inch, pencil-thin, razor-sharp knife. Monica casually walked around
her desk to stand in front of the new female recruit kneeling on the shiny
black marble tile and slit the woman's throat.

Charlie stood at
attention with her hands clasped behind her back. Her heart was pounding at the
brutal death of the innocent woman. Charlie had hacked Monica’s system and been
summoned to the gateway before she had time to replace the screen into the
sleeve of the wall. Monica returned early from her mission and caught Dedria in
her office and assumed the worst, slitting her throat before Charlie could
confess to the crime.

Monica stepped
over to her oblong glass desk. She pulled a tissue from her drawer, then wiped
the blood off the knife and returned it to its sheath that hooked on the belt
of her uniform. Taking a seat in the ergonomic white leather chair, she said,
“Charlie, you have real potential.

Are you up for a
challenge?”

“Yes,
Commander.” Charlie stared out the wall of windows facing the Milky Way. She'd
arrived at Lunar City shortly after tripping on acid at Woodstock in 1969. She
apparently fell through a time portal on the farm.

Charlie wished
she could remember what happened the day of the concert, but she’d been too
wasted. Not that it mattered because she was on a permanent trip now, like
something right out of a science fiction novel.

During Charlie's
ATTRA training, she’d learned that after the Lord Supreme had created the
Earth, the moon was brought in and placed in perfect orbit to stabilize the
planet. The magnificent city within the interior structure of the luminous
silver moon housed several thousand people working for the organization
overseeing humanity, tracking Time Spinners, negotiating with alien
interlopers, while deflecting debris catastrophic to Earth's existence.

ATTRA worked to
coordinate parallel universes and alternate realities to keep Earth's path on
course to a future utopian society.

Charlie had been
placed under Monica's authority, and with ATTRA’s strict protocols, it made
interference on the injustice she’d just witnessed impossible. Earth was
approaching a critical time shift based on the Time Trackers’ paradigm coming
in from around the world.

Monica motioned
for Charlie to sit in the white chair opposite of the desk. “Zane has informed
me the Lord Supreme recently assigned Ruben to monitor a Spinner crossing the
threshold on June 15, 1948 at 1500 hours.”

Charlie
straightened her spine in the chair at the mention of Ruben, her friend, and
mentor.

Monica said,
“The Spinner’s name is Julia Boatwright from North Carolina, born May 5, 1927.
She'll give birth to a son, the first human physicist to break the barrier of
the space-time continuum into the distant past. Ruben’s assignment is to
protect Julia. He’s unaware of the child. Your assignment is to kill Ruben and
bring me the girl.”

Monica swiveled
back and forth in the chair with a glazed look in her eyes. “The Plates of
Prophecy state the time machine developed by Julia’s son will travel into the
far distant past. If I can train the boy, I’ll control the historical events on
Earth and use the information to barter with the more advanced civilizations in
the galaxies. General Agriaous and I have set up colonization of a new planet,
Veetreous, from the Andromeda Galaxy, and I need more Spinners.”

Charlie’s eyes
widened. She leaned forward placing her right hand on the desk. “You’re talking
about the lives we’ve sworn to protect. And kill Ruben? He’s one of our best
Trackers.”

With a wave of
her hand, Monica scoffed, “For space sake wipe off that lovesick expression. I
admit Ruben is very good-looking, and well, not bad as a lover. Oh, I'm sorry.
I thought you knew we slept together. Do you want to end up on my marble floor,
Charlie?” A slow smile crept across Monica's face as Charlie's cheeks reddened.

“No, ma’am. But
if the Lord Supreme learns of you and General Agriaous using Spinners as slave
labor, it’ll be your head on the floor.”

“Silence! May I
remind you that you’ve sworn allegiance to me.” Throwing her hands up, palms
out, Monica said, “Look, Charlie, Ruben's a threat to me. He wants my job, and
I won't allow it. That girl and her child are not only my ticket to a seat on
the council but will also make me the Queen of Veetreous. If you play your
cards right, you’ll have more power than you’ve ever dreamed possible. I’m
issuing you a direct order, Charlie. Be discreet and make Ruben’s death look
like an accident after he meets Ms. Boatwright, and I'll consider making you
the new Commander.”

Charlie clenched
her teeth and then replied, “Yes, Commander.”

Monica motioned
to the sliding glass doors. “Pick up the details of your assignment with Zane
outside, then send him in to clean up this mess. You're dismissed.”

Charlie turned
on a dime and marched out of Monica’s office. She grabbed the assignment chip
and raced down the corridor, ducking into an alcove to gather her wits.

Charlie had to
warn Ruben. But how? Last she'd heard, Ruben had traveled in the Needle-Horn to
1950. Betraying Commander Monica Adams meant immediate execution, but Monica
was out of control, and someone had to do something to stop the power-hungry
maniac.

Charlie headed
to the gateway for a quick trip to 1950.

About the Author

After graduating Middle Tennessee State University, D.F. Jones landed a job as a broadcast consultant at the ABC Affiliate in Nashville, which led her opening an advertising agency. Over the years, she’s created many campaigns for clients and still enjoys developing marketing materials.

However, in December of 2010, D. F. Jones became a caregiver for her parents. There’s nothing quite like facing mortality to shake up one’s life. She began my writing her first novel in the late Fall of 2014.

Writing is a source of creative expression, but it also releases stress for D. F. Jones. Writing takes her to a place where anything is possible, and fiction takes D.F. Jones to a place made of dreams.

D.F. Jones is happily married to the love of her life and best friend, KJ. They have two gorgeous grown sons she loves and adores more than life itself. D.F. Jones loves to laugh, and her husband keeps her in stitches!

D.F. Jones is a fan of the Tennessee Titans, MTSU Blue Raiders and she enjoys working in her flower gardens.

The fate of two best friends and the secret love between them is known only to a mysterious figure who offers to aid one in hiding the truth from the other...lest their lives and love meet a tragic end.

When Olivia Villalobos finds a bloodstained love letter she endeavors to deliver it before Chief Inspector Sedeño finds it in her possession.

A city along the southern coast of Puerto Rico emerges in the aftermath of the Spanish-American War. Olivia, daughter of a drunkard police investigator who never knew the truth behind her mother’s disappearance, finds a bloodstained love letter in the hidden compartment of her father’s coat. Convinced it belonged to the man recently found dead she sets out to deliver it to the Labyrinth of Love Letters. A mysterious place believed to be an urban legend where the transients of forbidden love leave missives for one another. She enlists the help of Isaac Quintero to find the Labyrinth and they soon realize their quest has opened the door into Old Sienna’s darkest secrets—the perils, madness and depth of tragic love.

About the Author

Felix Alexander (1976-Present) is a Mexican-born, American-raised novelist, and poet of Mexican and Puerto Rican descent.

Acclaimed by readers for his poetic prose, his indie releases include: Dear Love: Diary of a Man's Desire, a collection of love letters and poems; The Romantic: A Love Story; and most recently an epic historical fantasy Shadows of Time: The Amulet of Alamin along with a mystery-thriller The Secret of Heaven.

Being third-generation military, after a grandfather and uncle who served in the Korean War and Vietnam War, respectively, Alexander is proud of his service in the U.S. Army, and grateful for his experience.

After his honorable discharge from the U.S. Army, he embarked on the long and arduous journey of a writer. Having made a name for himself during his tenure, serving his country, he vowed to himself and his fellow soldiers that he would answer his true calling.

When not spending time with his children, a son and daughter, he journeys through the portals in his extensive, personal library. When he returns, he immerses himself in his writing, and pursues the scent of his muse.

Robin of Lockesly was neither the son her father wanted, nor the daughter her mother expected. When she refuses an arranged marriage to a harsh and cruel knight, the deadly events that follow change her destiny forever.
After a night of tragedy, Robin and the few remaining survivors flee to Nottingham. With a newfound anonymity, they start to live different lives. There, she and her band make mischief, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. But charity isn’t the only thing she wants–she wants revenge.
As the sheriff draws his net closer, Robin’s choices begin to haunt her. She’ll have to choose between what’s lawful and what her conscience believes is right–all while staying one step ahead of the hangman.
Lady of Sherwood is a unique young adult retelling of the beloved Robin Hood legend. Filled with action and romance, this new series follows a teenage heroine through her fantastic, yet dangerous adventures.

Other girls—some of the youngest ones from the kitchen—came from the brush. Smoke clung to them like a shroud, and tears had run in rivers down soot-stained cheeks. Ginny, the youngest at six, ran to Jemma and attached herself like a limpet to the older girl’s legs.

“Where is everyone else?” Robin asked, glancing between them and then back at the flaming manor. “Where is—where’s—” Her face heated even as the rest of her body grew chilled, and she stuffed her first in her mouth to muffle her scream.
“We are the only ones.”
Robin looked up at Kitty, surprised to find herself on her knees in the damp grass. She curled her shaking fingers into fists, and then rested them on her thighs. “How—what happened?”
“That man,” the girl went on, absently twisting her skirt in her hands. “The one who’d been courting you… he came for you in the night. When he couldn’t find you, he gathered everyone in the great hall.”
“Except you lot?” Jemma inquired.
“He was hurting her.” Kitty’s eyes took on a glossy quality. “He had Maggie by the hair, and he was hurting her. She had Ginny behind her, protecting her. I—I hit him over the head with a candle stand.”
“We went through the old tunnel,” another voice piped up. Maggie slipped her hand into Kitty’s. “Me and Kitty and Ginny.”
“And my—my mother?” Robin took a deep, shuddering breath.
“She kept her secret. We heard ‘im, shouting. He wanted to know where you was.” Ginny, this time. She wandered away from Jemma, and Robin opened her arms for her to nestle into. She’d helped Jemma look after the younger servants on the sly for years. Whether they’d been orphaned at birth or left to the streets, Jemma had brought them each back to the manor, and she’d given them a home and a hope the rest of the world didn’t offer. “She didn’t tell, Robin. She didn’t tell him where you was.”
“I heard Charlotte say you were gone,” Maggie said quietly. “She’d gone to your mother’s chambers to tell her. Miss Jemma was gone, too, and so was your bow.” She shrugged, a delicate lift of her shoulders. “We all thought you had gone to the field.”
“And she said nothing?” Robin’s heart beat hard against her ribcage.
“Lady was very brave,” Ginny murmured.
“She was,” Robin agreed. “Like you are. You all.” She looked at each of the other girls, who stared back, clearly waiting.
It hit her then—they were waiting for her. With the only survivors of the manor in front of her, and her mother dead—God rest her soul, God hold them all in His hand—it occurred to her in that moment. She was the Lady of Lockesly.

Author Bio:

Molly is a 2013 graduate of William Smith College with a bachelors in chemistry. She puts her science powers to use by day and is a novelist by night (and weekend...and any five minutes she can find). When she's not writing or working, she's scoping out coffee shops, exploring her new city (Buffalo, NY), taking day trips to Canada, and putting together puzzles.

Lady Faith MacAlister lives to provide for her clan with a skill she honed while hunting with her father. Since his death and final pledge, “Through Hope, Faith, and Honor, ye can rule” she proclaims herself as clan huntress. She loves the quiet of the woods, the thrill of the hunt and the exhilaration of a perfectly placed arrow. If only she could travel further than MacAlister lands to experience adventure. When an intruder interrupts her hunt and steals her away from MacAlister land and out to the sea—she may just experience the adventure she craves.

Graeme Ross must save the family home his father gambled away and regain the respect of his father and clan. When he stumbles upon a lovely lass in the forest, he secures her for ransom. He knows she was one of the MacAlister sisters, those who pledged to rule the clan. What Graeme didn’t expect was how this beautiful woman would entice him with her strength and determination. Graeme’s attraction to Faith cannot interfere with his quest to save his home, redeem his image in his father’s eyes. Graeme lets her go—worse he betrays their growing affection by feigning she means nothing to him.

Devastated, Faith goes back to her clan with a secret she must keep until Graeme comes back to her. Graeme travels to his father with the ransom money weighting his pocket and heart. Faith is better off without him, his vagabond ways and the loathing of his father and clan.

Can Graeme reconcile with his clan and have Faith as his?

Can Faith keep her secret until Graeme comes to his senses and realizes he loves her?

Separately, they yearn for one another, together their love will take them on an adventure of a lifetime.

About the Author

Madelyn Hill has always loved the written word. From the time she could read and all through her school years, she'd sneak books into her textbooks during school. At the age of 10 she proclaimed she wanted to be a writer. After being a "closet" writer for several years, she sent her manuscripts out and is now published with Soul Mate Publishing.

A resident of Western New York, she moved from one Rochester to another Rochester to be with the love of her life. They have 3 children and keep busy cooking, movies, and of course reading!

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Love doesn’t matter. Romance doesn’t exist.
In the year 2060, sex is a game of extremes. No desire is unexplored and even the unimaginable is possible.
Alexa Mathis, head of the monolithic O Corporation, has found a prodigy she believes will drive her sex empire to rapturous new limits: Chloe Shaw, a common girl with uncanny gifts that make her a powerful escort.
Chloe doesn’t believe in love. She believes in ecstasy, and her employer’s newest tool to usher “the future of sex”: an intelligent network known as The Beam.And so it is until she meets Andrew … and the whole world changes.
The Future of Sex is a 12-part romance/sci-fi series exploring the line between today’s conception of love and the sensations that await us in the future.

Andrew was startled. He’d been listening to music when Chloe entered, and hadn’t heard her approach. His door was unlatched, without a digital lock. He hadn’t been kidding about being poor. His connection was isolated to the terminal playing the music. He lived like a bohemian, and his apartment was little more than masonry and glass. She felt guilty about using her Beam connection to ferret out Andrew’s address, but once her hands were on his hips, her chest pressing into his back, Chloe no longer cared.
“You surprised me.”
She reached toward the terminal — a simple, no-frills model — and touched his screen to change the music, choosing something soft and lyrical to replace it. Something sappy and lovelorn that her mother would mock.
“Close your eyes,” she repeated.
He hesitated. She couldn’t see his eyes because she was behind him, but Andrew’s body language betrayed a man at attention. His moment of reluctance gave her pause until she realized his doubt was about himself rather than her.
“Chloe …”
“Just do it.”
She sensed his eyes closing. Then she rested her hands on his chest, palm flat. The movement was sensual, but not sexual. Her default would have been to go below the belt, so she kept her hands high.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Feeling.”
“I wish I worked out more.”
“Not feeling you. I meant that I’m attempting to feel. To emote.”
“How is it going?”
“I don’t know.”
And she didn’t. Chloe was feeling just fine, but it was like an ingrained response to Andrew’s presence. If he were feeling doubtful or down, her chameleon nature would want her to adapt, to touch him in just the right ways and say just the right things. She wasn’t sure if her genuine reaction — if she’d ever felt such a thing — was the same.
“You don’t know?”
“What do you want me to say, Andrew?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“What do you want from me? How would you have me feel?”
Andrew hesitated. “Is this a test?”
He sounded concerned, or even more doubtful than before — the opposite of his usual carefree, playful self. Something had been wrong at the park, and it had occupied Chloe’s mind, heavy like an anchor, ever since. That same thing was still wrong, but had matured into something else.
“No,” she said. “It’s not a test.”
“I don’t want you to feel anything. You feel what you feel.”
It was such a simple thing to say, yet Chloe didn’t know if her body and mind understood.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Nervous.” It was the truth, but she wasn’t sure if it was her base or something more meta. Was she nervous for her own reasons, or because she wasn’t sure how she truly felt?
“Me too,” he said.
With her flat palms, Chloe could feel his heart. “I can tell.”
“I don’t know what to make of you, Chloe.” His words were rushed as if he’d been dying to say them.
“Nobody seems to.”
“I don’t know if I like you for you, or if I like the person you’re becoming so that I will like you.”
Chloe turned Andrew around. She didn’t have to tell him to open his eyes. He did so automatically, those usually-playful orbs suddenly so serious.
“So,” she said, “you can tell.”
“I don’t know what I can tell.”
“You’re conflicted. There’s something wrong.”
“Conflicted,” he echoed. “But nothing’s wrong.” Then: “At least, I hope not.”
“But you don’t know.”
“Honestly? I don’t.”
“My whole life is about feeling, but it’s always as a response.” Chloe swallowed, hesitant to voice what was coming. “But I know how I feel about that — about your hesitation.”
“I think I love you, Chloe.”
“But you don’t know.”
He shook his head.
A tear tickled the corner of her eye.
“And I know how I feel about that, too.” He moved to kiss her.
“Don’t.”
“I want to.”
“Because I want you to?” Chloe asked. “And I want you to because you want to?”
Andrew tipped his head a little; he didn’t have to say that Chloe’s double-talk was confusing them both. He pressed his lips to hers, felt her lack of response, then pulled back. “Does it matter?”

Author Bio:

I love to write stories with characters that feel real enough to friend on Facebook, or slap across the face. I write to make you feel, think, and burn with the thrill that can only come from getting lost in the pages. I love to write unforgettable characters who wrestle with life's largest problems. My books may always end with a Happily Ever After, but there will always be drama on the way there.

From USA TODAY bestselling author, a psychic warfare alternative history set in a gritty version of Earth. Contains strong romantic elements – a book in the Bridge & Sword World. Apocalyptic. Psychic Romance.

“You are the Bridge…”
Allie Taylor lives in a world populated by seers, a second race discovered on Earth at the beginning of the 20th Century. Psychic, hyper-sexual and enslaved by governments, corporations and wealthy humans, seers are an exotic fascination to Allie, but one she knows she’ll likely never encounter, given how rich you have to be to get near one.
Then a strange man shows up at her work –– then another –– and pretty soon Allie finds herself on the run from the law, labeled a terrorist and in the middle of a race war she didn’t even know existed. Yanked out of her life by the mysterious and uncommunicative Revik, Allie discovers her blood may not be as “human” as she always thought, and the world of seers might not be quite as distant as she always imagined.
When Revik tells her she’s the Bridge, a mystical being meant to usher in the evolution of humanity––or possibly its extinction––Allie must choose between the race that raised her and the one where she might truly belong.

Inside that heated glow, I birth.
Stars swim past me in a pale swath, sky broken by sharp eyes and lightning flashes, snaking charges of gold and orange and crimson, the late side of the setting sun.
I am with him again.
I have never left him.
Now we lie together on a bed, wrapped into and around one another, alone in a single room in a building full of seers. I know I am supposed to be like them. I know I’m supposed to be the same as those women I met when we came in off the street––yet he is the only one here who feels at all like me. His breath warms my skin, his fingers wrap around me, stroking my face and neck and hair, stroking my arms and fingers and lips.
The pain between us worsens, a spike that arcs, starting as a gentle pull before it keens steeply up, inexorable, becoming gradually more unbearable, until I am sure my insides will be ripped out, torn into so many pieces there is nothing left.
Beyond where I lay, a golden ocean beckons. It is familiar.
Even more familiar than the mountains we share, the grief over our pasts.
He is there, too.I’m sorry, he says. I did this. I did this to you. I’m sorry––
Shhh. My voice is steady, somehow apart from the lights clashing, the ghosts winging over both of our heads. Revik, it’s all right.Don’t leave me, Allie. Don’t leave me alone with this.
I feel confusion on him, confusion in his own words, what he means by them. The feeling intensifies though; his hands tighten on my skin.
The pain worsens, too, making it hard to see.
Still, my own words come easily, without thought or regret.I won’t, I tell him. I never will.
There is a question in this. The question shocks his heart.
I am asking him for something. My light is, anyway. I can’t say it’s a conscious question, not fully, but the intensity behind it is real, and it feels entirely like me.
I am asking him for something.
I want a promise from him. A vow.
I want him to give himself to me.
It is nonsense, what I am asking of him, but I don’t withdraw the question, nor try to qualify it in any way with words. I only wait, seeing what he will say. Before I’ve fully understood either the question or the possible answers he might give, he’s agreed.
A surrender lives in that agreement.
I feel shame there, too, like he knows he should say no, but he cannot––will not. He clasps my fingers, and I see tears in his eyes. They bewilder me, touch me sharply through the pain and he pulls me closer until…
He kisses me. It is a brief kiss. Clumsy. Awkward. Yet it is tender, too. Meaning lives there, more meaning than I can comprehend. I feel him agree again, and it feels final that time. It is absolute. He is certain now.
The vow is set. It is more than a promise.
It feels like an ending and a beginning, all at once.
Even as I think it, the night sky disappears. Above us, light weaves into complicated patterns, in and out like a shuttlecock between silk threads. I have a fleeting impression of time removed. The weaving of the threads grows more and more complicated, more subtle, more beautiful and intimate and more connected to my heart.
I watch a painting form in that vastness of sky, a painting of fiery, diamond light, in a pattern too breathtaking for words. My struggle stops, even as the pain I felt before melts into warm breath, a feeling of ending, of beginning.
I know, somehow. This is familiar to me.
I feel it in him, too, that surge of familiar.
The feeling is so heart-wrenching, so intense, I cannot see anything else.
He belongs to me. He belonged to me before I asked the question.
We know one another here, and a timelessness lives in that knowing, something that lives so far from my conscious mind it feels almost alien. That deep sense of familiar is something I can’t explain to myself, something I understand without words, without really understanding it at all.
Something is… different.
I don’t know it yet, but it will never be the same again.

Author Bio:JC Andrijeski is a USA TODAY bestselling author who writes paranormal mysteries and apocalyptic fiction, often with a sexy, romantic and metaphysical bent. JC has a background in journalism, history and politics, and loves martial arts, yoga, meditation, hiking, swimming, horseback riding, painting… and of course reading and writing. She grew up in the Bay Area of California, but travels extensively and has lived abroad in Europe, Australia and Asia, and from coast to coast in the continental United States. She currently lives and writes full-time in Bangkok, Thailand.
To learn more about JC and her writing, please visit jcandrijeski.com.
If you want an email when JC’s next book is released, as well as special giveaways, offers to read books early and other prizes, join her newsletter, THE REBEL ARMY, at: http://hyperurl.co/JCA-Newsletter
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Kelly had a history of picking the wrong guy, but destiny had its own twisted plan for her. She could not change what destiny had in store for her, but she could learn to accept it. With change came Eric and he was one-hundred percent Alpha bad boy. Kelly knew one thing when it came to Eric...

He drove her absolutely crazy.

Eric knew as soon as he scented her, and her smell invaded his senses, that she was his mate. An alpha did not let go of his mate for anything.... she was his. He would fight for her. He would guide her. He would love her.

And with other wolves now after her… he would protect her at all cost.

She’s:
Uptight
Sheltered
Allergic to fun
He’s:
Cocky
Crude
Unapologetic
He’s all dirty jokes and curse words, while she’s quiet and shy. She blends into the background, while he is the center of everyone’s attention.
Clay Mitchell never expected to fall in love. Especially not with a girl he’s known all his life and one who’s always been off-limits.
Opposites might attract, but in this case of explosive chemistry, someone’s heart is bound to be shattered.
As enemies become friends and friends morph into more; Clay has definitely met his match.

Before I can get my equilibrium, his mouth brushes mine, so light I almost think I imagined it. I gasp, my back arching and bringing our bodies closer together. The contact makes him gasp too, and our mouths touch once more. This time, his tongue darts out to trace along my bottom lip. My arms tighten further as he presses the top half of his body against mine.

Reality intrudes, and I wonder, should we be doing this? Is this what I want? Then, Clay’s tongue touches mine and every thought in my head evaporates. Unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his tongue exploring my mouth, tangling with my own before he retreats. I automatically follow him, tasting the inside of his for the first time. If someone had told me that the first Mitchell boy I would kiss would be Clay, I would have laughed in their face. But, here I am, Clay’s hands on the bed, on either side of my head, his arms taut as they hold him above me.
The kiss deepens, and Clay’s body moves as he toes off his shoes before climbing up on the bed to hover above me. My legs fall open, letting him move between them. His body lowers onto mine and now we’re touching from head to groin, his erection against the part of me that clenches at the feel of him pressing into me.
Clay’s mouth leaves mine, traveling along my jaw until he gets to my ear where he sucks the lobe into his mouth, biting down gently. My arms go lax at the exquisite feeling, sliding down the side of his neck until my hands find purchase on his shoulders. He tugs a final time on my ear before his mouth moves lower to press a kiss just behind it. My nails dig into his shirt and his body shudders above mine, prompting a delicious feeling between my legs.
Before I can register the motion, he rises up on his knees, grips the back of his t-shirt in one hand and pulls it over his head. He drops it over the side of the bed and pulls me up to a sitting position to grip mine by the hem. Pulling it slowly over my head, he drops it down as well, leaving me clad in only bra, jeans and panties. Clay’s eyes travel from the top of my head to my breasts, where they hesitate for only a few seconds before his hands slide along the sides of my face, tunneling through my hair to tip my head to the side. His mouth descends on mine, and he thrusts his tongue back inside my mouth, more forcefully than before.
This kiss is totally out of my control. His hands on my face move it from side to side until I’m in the position he wants me in. Clay’s mouth is greedy, and he presses it harder against mine until I’m lying back against his pillows. All I can feel is the sensation of his mouth on mine, his bare chest touching my almost bare one. It makes me long for more. I arch my back, struggling to undo the clasp of my bra awkwardly with one hand. Noticing what I’m doing, he takes one hand from my face and runs it down my arm and around to where I’m struggling with the clasp. It takes him less than a second to undo, and then he uses both hands to slide the straps down my arms.

Author Bio:
Stacey is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author of Second Chances and Shadows of the Past (co-authored with H.M. Ward), the Nashville Nights, Two Sisters and Nashville U series (coming late 2015 from Swoon Romance).
She is also a wife, mother, writer and self-professed bookwhore – not necessarily in that order! As the mother of three growing boys, her Kindle has become her temporary escape from the insanity of boys, dogs and her husband. Stacey can usually be found curled up with her iPad when she’s supposed to be writing or creating endless Spotify playlists!